


Into The Fire

by Dragongoddess13



Series: Ghost Whisperer AU [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bank Robbery, Blood and Injury, F/M, Ghost Whisperer AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragongoddess13/pseuds/Dragongoddess13
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple thing. Go to the bank with the nice older brother and sister and prove to their deceased father's best friend that ghosts were real It would be just her luck that all this would happen on the day three men decided to rob it.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: Ghost Whisperer AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715362
Comments: 55
Kudos: 167





	1. The Bank

Into The Fire

Chapter 1: The Bank

xXx

_ “Mom and dad want to throw you a birthday party.”  _ Sansa’s voice filters through the speaker of Arya’s cellphone. The small device sits on the kitchen counter, the call on speaker as Arya moves around the kitchen, fixing herself another cup of coffee and cleaning up breakfast. 

“I suppose I don’t have a choice in the matter.” 

_ “Do any of us ever?”  _

“Fair.” she sighs. 

_ “Look on the bright side, you won’t have to drive North. Mom wants to come down to King’s Landing.” _

“Let me guess, she wants to have the party here at my house?” 

_ “You know how excited she is that you're almost done with it.” _ Sansa replies.  _ “Don’t worry, I’ll help you get things ready if need be. I’m going to take some time off when they come down.”  _

“Thanks.” her reply turns into a mutter as the doorbell rings, drawing her attention. “Hey, can I call you back, someone’s at the door.” 

_ “Sure.”  _

The sisters say their goodbyes before Arya ends the call, picking up her phone and making her way to the front of the house. The door opens to find three individuals standing there. A middle aged man with dark brown hair and green eyes, he’s dressed in a simple blue button down shirt and grey slacks. The middle aged woman standing beside him is nearly identical with the same dark hair and green eyes. She’s wearing a simple pink sundress, her hair pulled back into an elegant braid. The third man is much older, at least twenty years or more than the other two. He’s wearing a brown tweed suit and matching brown loafers. 

The older man looks far too happy to see her, given that they do not know each other, and Arya wearily looks to the other two. The woman peaks over her shoulder at the older man, then back at Arya with wide, hopeful eyes. 

“Can I help you?” Arya asks, looking between them. 

“Yes, I’m sorry,” The man says, shaking his head and stepping forward. He offers her his hand. “My name is Ralph Donohue,” he begins, he then gestures to the woman. “And this is my sister Rachel Donohue-Muldoon.” he continues. “This may sound strange, but our father recently died, about three months or so ago and well…” he hesitates, looking to his sister. 

Rachel steps forward herself, picking up where Ralph left off. “Our father was a firm believer in the paranormal.” she says, and Arya’s eyes cut to the older man standing behind them. He grins at her, waving excitedly like a child. “He and his closest friend had differing opinions on the matter and they set up a kind of test for when one of them died.” 

Arya sighs, she knows exactly where this is going. Stepping aside, she lets them into the house. 

“Coffee?” she asks as she leads them back into the kitchen. 

“No thank you.” Rachel replies for both of them. Arya grabs her own coffee from the counter and tops it off while they each take a seat at the breakfast bar. 

“So, to prove your father right, you need someone to see your father’s spirit and… what?” 

“Well, basically, they created this elaborate game. They each put money into a safety deposit box along with letters to each other and loved ones. They each have a password that only the other knows. The family of each one, when they pass, is to seek out a psychic. The psychic will accompany the family to the bank where the box is located, give the password and if it’s correct, we open the box, split the money with the psychic and the family and retrieve whatever else is in it.” 

“We tried a bunch of other psychics, but they were all fake.” the old man speaks up. Arya looks at him. 

“They may not have been fake.” she replies. “Psychics just aren’t what people think they are.” 

“I’m sorry?” Ralph questions, sharing a confused look with his sister. 

“Psychics, you’ve tried a few already and none of them could help?” 

“Yes, how did you…”

Arya points to the old man, though even as they turn to look she knows they won’t see him. “Your father…”

“Winston Michael Donohue III.” the old man states proudly. 

“Winston, says you’ve tried others.” she tells them and they look back at her astonished. “Psychics do not see ghosts, they see energies. They have a preternatural ability to see events past present and future, and occasionally to hear things from behind the veil. They do not, however, see ghosts. You need a Ghost Whisperer for that.” 

“And you’re a Ghost Whisperer?” Rachel asks. She sounds a bit skeptical, but she’s not rude about it. Arya simply nods. “Will you help us?” 

Arya looks to Winston, his grin never faltering as he looks back at her hopefully. “Oh what the hell, I didn’t have anything planned today.” she mutters under her breath. “What do you need from me?”

“Well, first and foremost, proof that you are in fact talking to our father.” Ralph tells her. 

“Understandable.” she replies, turning to look at Winston again. 

“Let’s see.” he ponders. “How about this. Tell them that I loved my service, the flowers were beautiful and thank you for not letting Jeremy Donald speak at the service.”

“Thank you for not letting Jeremy Donald speak at his service. He loved the service in general and the flowers were beautiful.” Arya repeats. 

“I told you that was the right call.” Ralph says. “He would have made the whole thing about himself.” 

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Rachel replies, shaking her head. She then turns to Arya. “So, will you go with us to the bank?” 

“Sure, let me just change.” Arya relents. She pretends she doesn’t find Winston’s excited grin amusing. 

xXx

The man they meet at the bank is in fact the bank manager. He’s about as old as Winston and dressed similarly. He doesn’t look particularly happy to be there. If he’s as much of a skeptic as Winston has told her, she can’t blame him. 

“Arya, this is Daniel Loust.” Rachel introduces them. 

“Nice to meet you.” Arya replies, shaking his hand. 

“Likewise.” he replies, though he doesn’t seem to mean it all that much. “I suppose we should get this over with,” he tells her. “What’s the password?” The question is a bit snotty, though he doesn’t appear to be doing it on purpose. Arya’s dealt with her fair share of skeptics in her life and compared to any of them, Daniel is probably least rude about his beliefs. 

“Faraday.” she tells him, watching surprise flit across his face. He struggles to find a response, anything at all, but he doesn’t appear to have anything to say, a fact that Winston is all too happy about. 

“Take that you little snot.” he says, and Arya resists the urge to laugh at the triumphant grin on his face. 

“Well, that is… correct.” Daniel replies. He adjusts his suit jacket almost obsessively. There’s a look in his eyes she’s seen more than once, a mix of wonder and fear, but he doesn’t say anything else as he turns, gesturing for them to follow. He leads them into the vault at the back of the bank. Rows and rows of safety deposit boxes of varying sizes covered the entire eastern side of the vault and he led them all the way down to one at the end. “Here it is.” 

Rachel pulls a key from her purse, handing it over to Daniel who slips it into one of the two locks. He then takes out a ring of keys from his pocket, locating one and slipping it into the second lock. He turns them together, opening the door and pulling out a long metal box from the drawer. 

Together they walk to a table at the center of the vault, setting the box on it and opening the thin lid. Inside sits two stacks of cash and several letters bound together with string. Daniel pulls them all out, sorting the letter by name first and passing them off to Rachel and Ralph, tucking one with his own name into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He then counts out the cash, handing her half. 

“Well, it would appear that’s that.” Daniel says, closing the lid and slipping the box back into the wall. He returns to them when he’s done, standing tense, his hands behind his back. 

Winston shakes his head, sighing. “Will you give him another message for me?” he asks her and she nods, a gesture they all notice. “Please tell him that it’ll be so easy to close up now, to shut down and block everyone out, but please don’t. I spent too much time trying to draw him out after Susan died, he can’t let all that go to waste now.” 

She repeats Winston’s words, watching the tears spring to Daniel’s eyes. “Jack ass.” he mutters under his breath, wiping them away before they can fall. Winston chuckles. 

“Tell Rachel and Ralph everything they need to know is in those letters.” he continues and she does just that. They thank her. “Would you look at that?” Winston says, his voice full of awe. Like all the spirits she’d seen crossover before, he stood in wonder at what they all described as a light. She herself could not see it and likely wouldn’t until her time came. Winston looks back at his children and best friend and smiles; then to her. He thanks her before turning and fading from sight. 

“Is he gone?” Ralph asks. 

Arya nods. “He walked into the light.” 

“Thank you.” Rachel tells her as they walk out of the vault. Daniel does the same before he’s called away by another employee. 

Arya takes a minute to follow them out, giving herself a moment to catch her breath. There were days were she despaired waking up, worried about seeing the things she saw. Those days always seemed so numerous that she forgot what it could mean to actually help someone. No murder, no horrific accidents, just one person hoping to give their remaining loved ones some peace and closure. It left her feeling light, almost, dare she say it, hopeful. 

Arya takes a deep breath and makes her way out of the back, weaving through the bodies in the lobby. As she nears the center, her eyes meet a familiar set of blue and she stops for a second as Gendry sets his pen down on the desk and makes his way over to her. 

She knew he was supposed to be working today, and yet he wasn’t wearing his badge or his side arm. 

“Hey, called off again?” she teases. He’d confided in her a few weeks ago, just after everything settled down after the Walker case, that he had been burning his candle at both ends and would likely take some time off soon. Honestly, she thought he deserved it. Even Jon, who seemed to have been distancing himself from his new partner as of late, admitted that Gendry worked too hard, spending most of his time at the precinct, and when he wasn’t at work, he was looking into cold cases on his own time. 

“You need to get out of here.” he tells her, his voice low enough that only she could hear him. 

“What? Why?” she asks as he takes her by the upper arm and begins leading her toward the door. She goes willingly. 

“We got an anonymous tip this morning that someone is going to rob this bank.” he tells her. Startled, she doesn’t question him any further, hurrying along with him while trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. “We didn’t have time to set up a full operation, so we’re short on manpower.” he continues and she can hear the obvious complaint in his voice. 

As they near the front she spots the guard by the door, recognizing him from the precinct. Officer Conroy, a tall man with blonde hair and matching goatee. He gives her a nod of acknowledgement as they move closer, but it’s about all they manage before everything goes to hell. 

In less than a second the doors open and Gendry stops them short. The man that comes through it is wearing jeans and an old, red cut off sweatshirt. There’s a blank trucker hat on his head and a shotgun strapped to his shoulder. Conroy moves to pull his weapon, but the man is on him before he can lift the revolver out of its holder, whipping him across the temple with the butt of the hand gun he’d had in hand. Arya moves on instinct toward Conroy, ready to check his injury, but Gendry still has a hold on her arm and yanks her back, nearly off her feet until she’s standing behind him. She catches the glimpse of the gun tucked into the back waistband of his pants as he reaches for it, but again, the robber is faster and he gets a shot off. 

Screams rise up and it’s not long before Arya realizes they're coming from her as she falls to the floor, Gendry cursing as his hand comes up to nurse his arm. His own gun goes skittering across the marble floor and she watches in horror as the robber picks it up. The other patrons are screaming now too but Arya pays them no mind, leaning over Gendry to check his arm. 

“It’s just a scratch, get out of here.” he grunts as she pulls his hand from his bicep. He’s right, it’s just a graze, but it’s still bleeding fairly well and will most likely require stitches. 

“KLPD, Freeze!” she hears behind her. She turns to find two more plainclothes officers brandishing their weapons at the man. She recognizes them both, also from Gendry’s precinct, but that’s about as far as her thoughts get when two people step out of the crowd of terrified patrons, pulling weapons of their own. They hold them at the officer’s backs and the standoff lasts only a moment before both surrender. 

Arya turns her attention back to Gendry. The bright red stain on his shirt sleeve sending a shock of terror through her that she isn’t prepared for and she desperately shuffles through her pockets for something to press against the wound. She finds an old bandana jammed in her back pocket. It’s stained with old paint, but it’s the best she has. 

Her hands are shaking as she moves his hand, pressing the bandana to the wound. Her thoughts are racing but if pressed, she’d never be able to tell anyone what she was thinking. It’s only the warm pressure on her arm that pulls her from the spiral of emotions that are close to overwhelming her. 

“Hey,” Gendry’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. She looks down on him, grey meeting a steady blue. “Deep breath.” he says and she listens, taking a deep breath and letting out slowly. 

“Alright!” the man who came through the door shouts. “As you can clearly see this is a robbery. Empty your purses, pockets, take off your jewelry, watches everything. Drop it all in the bag my associate is bringing around. Do what you're told and we’ll leave you in peace.” 

As if to answer his order, sirens sound outside, and they all turn to look out the front glass doors. “What the fuck?” one of the three men mutters and the first of the three gestures for one of the others to go to the door and lock it. The man does and it’s not long before they hear the click of the lock. 

“Well folks, looks like we’re all gonna be stuck together for awhile.” the man says and despite the casualness of his tone there was an underlying anger there. 

Gendry huffs, looking up at her. “We have got to stop meeting like this.” 


	2. The Path Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a long weekend this week so I'm going to do my best to have this finished then. We are moving at work and all next week is going to be spent mostly away from the computer meeting with internet and phone techs and moving furniture into out new office. So I will do everything I can to be finished, but if it's not it probably won't be until next weekend. 
> 
> On the bright side I have up to story #9 outlined, so there are at least 5 more stories prepared to be written and four more after that planned but not outlined.

Into The Fire

Chapter 2: The Path Taken 

xXx

Gendry knew today was going to be shite as soon as he woke up and realized his coffee maker had shorted out. Starting the day with only the station's shitty coffee was never the way to start a day. He had honestly considered calling off, going over to Arya’s house and tackling that stubborn door in the basement storeroom for the day, but he hadn’t. Now, with her kneeling over him, her hands shaking as adrenaline undoubtedly pumps through her, he wishes he had. Perhaps he could have saved both of them from this.

Gendry turns his head to look toward the door, spotting Conroy struggling to sit up. He’s clutching his head a trickle of blood on his fingers. “Hey,” he says softly, drawing Arya’s attention from the bandana as she pulls it tight around his arm. He winces as the sharp sting of pain. “Can you get to Conroy?” she turns to look across the lobby then back to Gendry, nodding. “Good, don’t move too quickly. Just calmly get up and walk over.” she nods again, doing as he instructs. He watches the three robbers where they’re huddled together near the counter, talking quietly amongst themselves. One of them seems to notice her, but they don’t try to stop her. A fact that just adds to the discrepancies of the day. 

The three robbers are all men of about the same height. They’re smaller than him by a few inches, but his height isn’t going to matter much against their weapons. They’re all dressed similarly, in cut off shirts and jeans. They could all be the same age, though their individual demeanors belay that observation. The robber that came through the front door at him was dark haired and pale skinned. He had a few days of growth along his chin and it wasn’t particularly well kept. He was clearly the leader though, his presence much larger and more obvious than the other two. 

The second of the men, Gendry pinpointed as the loyalist. He listened intently to the leader, nodding along to whatever he said. He’d put money on them being related. Though his facial hair is much better kept, he’s not dressed much better, and his weapon is only a handgun. 

That left the third man, his demeanor lending an air of youth that made him stick out next to the other two. He was most likely the outsider of the group, the extra body they brought along to hold a gun and scare the bank patrons. His hair was a fiery red and his smooth face only made him look that much younger.

Gendry caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to look. At the far end of the lobby, the bank patrons and employees stood huddled together. Two men in expensive suits were whispering amongst each other, the patrons standing around them listening intently. He knew that look, he knew it all too well. Someone was about to do something foolish. 

As if on cue, one of them started slowly moving across the room, followed closely by the other. They kept their heads down and moved with intent toward the front door, walking behind groups of people where they could. They had only just made it past Gendry when one of the robbers spotted them, one he deemed the loyalist. 

“Hey!” he shouts, drawing his companions attention. The two men take off, slamming bodily into the door and struggling to open it. They don’t get the chance to remember it’s locked before the robbers are on them, physically pulling them away. One trips, falling to the floor beside Gendry.

“Alright!” the leader yells, turning on the others, gun raised. Terrified shrieks ring out as the patrons all move back in panicked steps. “There will be no more foolishness. I want everyone, together on the floor.” he gestures to the section of the floor with the tip of his pistol. “Now!” he screeches when they don’t all move immediately. They all jump into action, and he leaves them to his partners as he turns toward Gendry, Arya and Officer Conroy. “You three too.” he tells them. 

Gendry looks to Arya, who's looking over her own shoulder at the robber. Conroy looks a bit pale, but she’s managed to get him into a sitting position. Gendry gets to his feet and moves to her side, helping Conroy get his own footing. He winces at the pain in his arm as Conroy puts his weight on him, but he holds him steady nonetheless, leading them both to the back of the group. He helps lower Conroy to the ground, his back to the wall and then sits beside him as Arya begins tending to his head as best she can. 

The other two officers he’d brought along are sitting on Conroy’s other side. Detective Josiah Delmar from Robbery Homicide, who brought the case to them in the first place and Officer Henry Ludo, a transfer from Drug Enforcement. Delmar was a good cop, he went out of his way to help people and get the job done. Gendry had worked briefly with him before transferring out of robbery homicide years ago, when Delmar was just a newly minted patrolman. 

Ludo on the other hand was an asshole. He seemed to be under the impression that his job gave him a free pass to do as he pleased and he regularly skirted the law to move things forward. Ludo was on his last leg in the department, his record full of disciplinary reports and complaints. Gendry hadn’t wanted him on this case, but they were short staffed with a flu bug that was going around the city and Ludo was one of the few officers who was still healthy enough to go to work.

Ludo was currently watching Arya, a look of derision on his face. Gendry didn’t like that one bit. 

“I don’t think anything is broken, but you’re going to need stitches.” she tells Conroy, keeping her voice low. 

Ludo sneers. “Does seeing the dead qualify you to give out medical advice?” he asks. Delmar and Gendry shoot him a glare, which does nothing to quell him. Arya for her part doesn’t even look at him as she replies;

“No, but my medical degree and six years of surgical residency does.” 

There’s a sick sense of satisfaction as Ludo sits back against the wall, thoroughly admonished for now. Gendry just hopes he won’t be a problem as the situation progresses. 

When Arya has done all she can for Conroy, she turns her attention back to Gendry. The bandana on his arms is soaked on one side, not terrible considering that it could be soaked through. It’s uncomfortable though, and he knows enough about first aid to know he’ll need to get it taken care of before too long. 

As if sensing the nature of his thoughts, the loyalist appears behind them, carrying a navy blue duffle bag a Red Cross stitched neatly across the front. 

“Found this behind the counter.” He says simply, dropping it beside her. 

“Thanks.” She mutters, pulling the bag closer. 

“Just make sure none of them die, don’t need to be dealin’ with any pissed off cops.” He spoke with a proper accent, and to Gendry he sounded more like he was putting on a show, trying to play the part of a hardened criminal. He was certainly educated and if he wasn’t, he had the know how to pass for someone who was. 

He walks away as Arya opens the bag and Gendry leans forward a bit so only she can hear him as he speaks.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks. She huffs a humorless laugh. 

“Sure, Gen, this is just what I wanted to be doing on my day off.” 

“What were you even doing here anyway?” 

“Someone showed up at my house this morning and asked me to tag along to settle a bet between their dead father and his best friend.” She explains, shuffling through the bag. She pulls out rubber gloves and some kind of prepackaged kit. 

“Did you settle it?” he asks as she moves to his side. It’s probably not the best time to be asking, but he wants to be sure the adrenaline that clouded her mind earlier is gone. He may need her later and at the very least, he needs her clear headed so it’ll be that much easier to protect her. 

“I did.” she says, untying the bandana. “This might hurt.” she tells him before pulling it away. He tenses, the sharp rip of scab that’s formed breaking free. “Sorry.” she mutters, grabbing a piece of gauze and cleaning up the wound. 

“So here’s the million dollar question.” Delmar speaks up only loud enough for them to hear. “Did they get lucky taking all of us out, or did they plan out their moves with us in mind?” 

“What, like they called in the tip themselves?” Arya asks. Delmar nods. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time criminals wanted an audience.” Gendry tells her. He then looks to Delmar. “They didn’t seem like they knew who we were though.” 

As if to confirm this point, the leader’s voice echoes through the lobby, drawing their attention toward the teller stations on the other side of the room. “Then how the hell did they know?” he gestures with his weapon toward them and the action makes Gendry nervous. He’s one misstep away from shooting someone and with the way he’s been waving it around, it’s anyone’s guess who that might be. 

“None of that matters now.” the loyalist says, stepping between the other two. “We need to figure out how to get out of here.” 

“I’m open to suggestions.” is the last thing they hear, before their voices drop again. 

“They’re going to be searching for an alternative escape.” Gendry says. “Do you have a breakdown of the building?” 

“There are two other exits.” Delmar explains. “A fire escape on the second floor but that opens up right in line of sight to the front of the building and an alleyway exit in the back. 

He hears the ripping from the sterile prepack and looks down to find Arya preparing what looks to be sutures. “What are you doing?” he asks. She looks up startles. 

“Getting ready to suture your arm.” She replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He supposes it is.

“Without anesthetic?” He knows he sounds a little panicky, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it now. He avoids doctors like the plague, it would be just his luck his best friend turned out to be one. 

She rolls her eyes. “They’re tension sutures, relax. No needle required you big baby.” 

He scowls. “I’m not…” 

Movement from the robbers pulls his attention away from Arya, and he watches as the leader takes the third robber, ths skittish one with him into the back of the bank. When their gone, the loyalist speaks up; 

“Alright listen.” he starts, his voice calm and reasonable. “We’ve got no beef when any of you. Clearly this isn’t how any of us intended on spending our day, so we’re all just going to stay calm, stay quiet and everyone should go home unscathed.” his eyes cut to Gendry and Conroy. “Relatively.” 

The loyalist turns away then, moving to get a better look out the front door without moving too far from the group of hostages. 

“Something is definitely off.” Gendry mutters. 

“What do you mean?” Arya asks, keeping her head down as she works. 

Gendry winces as she tugs the bandages taught, pulling the pieces of skin together. “If you look at all of them together, they don’t match.” 

Arya finally looks up. “Match?” 

He nods. “The one that came through the door, he’s clearly the leader, but he’s got a temper and from the looks of him he’s most likely a career criminal. The one he took with him is an ametuer at best. He’s skittish and inexperienced and certainly doesn’t want to be here. The leader most likely strong armed him into this.”

“What about that one?” she gestures with a nod of her head to the man standing near the doors. 

“He’s the anomaly,” he replies. “He’s trying too hard to fit in with the leader. He tries to hide his proper Westerosi by sprinkling in contractions and slang, but it’s a hard habit to break. He’s also well groomed, his nails are clean, his facial hair trimmed and neat and judging by his complexion he doesn’t work out in the sun much.” 

“How does any of this help us?” Ludo cuts in, sounded aggravated. Gendry turns to glare at him. 

“It gives us some insight into their mind sets. It tells us which one of them is more likely to go down in a hail of gunfire and which ones we can talk down.” he explains, wincing as Arya tapes up a bandage over his arm. When she’s done, she switches out her gloves and uses the first aid kit to fix up Conroy. 

Ludo huffs, sitting back against the wall again. “I say we take advantage of him being alone and get everyone out of here.” he says. 

“First of all, he’s got a weapon at the ready, second, we have no idea how long the other two are going to be gone. If we approach and he starts firing he’s going to bring his partners back in here putting more lives at risk.” Delmar replies, looking about as thrilled with Ludo’s presence as Gendry is. 

“What about a distraction.” Conroy speaks up as Arya finishes with him. He’s looking significantly better than he was thirty or so minutes ago. “Your anomaly is clearly concerned with the wellbeing of everyone in here, make him think someone isn’t doing well, he gets close enough and we take him out without fuss.” 

“That could work.” Delmar agrees. “But it would have to be quick.” 

“One of the teller’s is heavily pregnant, she could pretend to go into labor.” Ludo suggests. Delmar seems to think about it and Gendry has to admit, it’s a good idea. 

“Won’t you need to move her closer?” Arya asks. Gendry hesitates. She was right, the teller they were talking about was sitting across the crowd of people, too far from any of them for them to ambush the loyalist if he did decide to come closer to her. 

As it turns out, the entire exercise is useless anyway. 

xXx

Arya feels the adrenaline start to ebb as she tightens the bandana over Gendry’s arm. His words, his tone, his expression are a comfort that goes a long way to calm her racing thoughts. It’s been too long since she found herself in a situation like this, since she was forced to think quickly for the sake of someone else’s health. 

She loves it. 

She hates that she loves it. 

Arya had fancied herself an adventurer growing up. She explored the depths of the Godswood that surrounded her childhood home, she never shied away from dirt and the possibility of scraped knees. She was a wild girl, her father called her a wolf cub, and she was as proud of that title as she was the family she came from. 

As she grew older and realized she wanted to spend her life helping people in a way her abilities couldn’t, the high adrenaline world of trauma healthcare seemed like an obvious choice. She reveled in the constant go go go, of every ER shift. She was ready to move, ready to jump into any situation with a level head and a steady hand. Her colleagues had commented on her ability to see even when the blood pounding through her veins should have blurred her vision; how even in the most dire of situations she never faltered. It was a gift, well honed, that she was proud of. 

That being said, after nearly two years without that, it’s no wonder she needs a moment to compose herself. Or maybe it’s because it’s Gendry on the ground, a man she would almost call her best friend, bleeding on the white marble floor, his skin pale as the shock of it hits him momentarily. It’s in those first few moments that she realizes something important, something that shifts and locks back into place. 

Something she’ll have to analyze later. 

As Arya listens to Gendry and his men discuss their options, she’s struck by how impressive Gendry is. She had always known he was good at his job, but seeing him now in a situation where her ability doesn’t outshine his years of experience brings it all to the forefront. 

She asks a question, bringing their conversation to a momentary halt. As much as she understands their plan, she also knows that it’s dangerous, and the doctor in her isn’t about to let them put a pregnant woman at risk, especially one who appears to be as far along as she is. 

As it turns out, it’s all a mute point anyway. Ludo looks as though he’s about to say something, mostly likely rude (he’s clearly had a problem with her since their first passing interaction over the coffee pot in the breakroom month earlier) when a cacophony of gunfire rings out from the back hall of the bank. She feels a heavy body collide with hers, pushing her to the ground. It’s not long before she realizes it’s Gendry, shielding her. Her fingers grip his shirt, holding on tightly as the muzzle blasts echo through the opulent, marble room. 

It takes a good minute after the sounds die down for Gendry to move, for any of them to move really. The loyalist, as Gendry had called him, takes off from the front doors, running for the back hallway his partners had disappeared through. He makes it halfway before the third robber, the youngest one, appears in the door, panting and struggling to drag the leader into the room. 

“What the hell happened?” the loyalist shouts, grabbing the leaders other arm and helping pull him into the room. A trail of crimson is painted on the floor behind them. The leader’s face is pale and twisted in agony with each tug. 

“The police, they were out in the alley.” the young one explains, his breathing labored, words stilted as he struggles to calm himself. “Joe, he tried to shoot at them.” 

“Fuck.” the loyalist curses. “ _ Idiot _ .” 

They lower him to the ground, kneeling over him, having forgotten the presence of everyone else in the room. Arya, whose being pinned against the wall, Gendry’s much larger body, half on top of her as he continues to shield her, tries to shift away enough to get a good look over the other sitting bodies, but she’s significantly shorter than most of them. Gendry, for his part, seems to understand what she's trying to do and is having none of it, his weight against her nearly doubling as he leans back to keep her in place. 

_ “Stop it.” _ he grinds out through his teeth. She doesn’t quite understand what his problem is. The robbers are too concerned with their fallen partner to worry about what she’s doing. 

As if to prove her wrong, the loyalist looks up and whether by coincidence or intention, meets her eye. 

“You.” he says, pointing at her as he gets back to his feet. “You looked like you knew what you were doing, are you a doctor?” 

With him pressed against her, she feels Gendry tense and almost involuntarily, her fingers curl around the loose material of his shirt. She can practically feel him begging her not to answer. The loyalist doesn’t like her hesitation and he repeats the question with more force, emphasizing it by raising his pistol at them. The people sitting in front of her gasp and shout, ducking out of the way instinctively. She nods slowly, shoving at Gendry’s back until he finally relents. 

Slowly, Arya gets to her feet, reaching for the first aid kit and walking toward the man. She spares a glance behind her, but Gendry is too busy glaring at the loyalist to notice. 

Arya should feel like a condemned man walking toward the gallows, but she doesn’t, because all of this just adds another layer of adrenaline to the life she had chosen for herself years ago. A life of helping people where few mistakes could be tolerated and quick, concise, decisive thinking was the only way to succeed. Whatever happened next would happen knowing full well she was right where she chose to be. 

This was her path taken.


	3. False Conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! It's done! I honestly didn't think it was going to get done this weekend! My head is killing me and I'm going to spend the rest of the day watching my favorite monster movies. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Next story will hopefully be up soon.

Into The Fire

Chapter 3: False Conclusion

xXx

His partners had called him “Joe”. It’s a detail she files away subconsciously. They tell surgeons not to get attached, that when working in a stressful environment day in and day out you need to keep a level head and the ability to move from one patient to the next without taking the problems of the last patient with you. Arya had never been able to do that to a degree. In the moment she could shut that emotional side of her brain down with very little problem, but afterward she was notorious for checking in on the patients that were admitted and no longer in her care. She had had a reputation for it actually. A few of her colleagues had looked down on her for it, but Arya knew that seeing each person she treated as a living breathing person was the only way to keep her feet firmly planted on the ground and her ego from getting so big it pushed everyone else out of her life. She loved people too much to be alone like that. 

Joe is not looking well at all. His sweatshirt is soaked through with his own blood and his hands and arms are painted with it as well. She’s seen this numerous times before, having treated her fair share of gunshot victims and she knew that this didn’t bode well for him. Not unless some higher power got involved. It wouldn’t stop her from trying though. 

The youngest robber was buzzing with a nervous energy that was begging to be directed. So Arya does. She spots the flannel shirt tied around his waist and points at it. 

“Give me your shirt.” she tells him. He hesitates, looking down at himself. “Your flannel, I need it.” that seems to snap him out of his confusion and he unties the flannel and passes it to her. She balls it up, pressing it to the wound in Joe’s abdomen. He grunts, groaning in pain. “Hold this here.” she tells him. “Keep steady pressure.” he does as she instructs and when she’s certain it’s enough, she turns to dig through the first aid kit. She knows there’s nothing in it that can help, but she tries anyway, pulling out the other suture kit and another pair of rubber gloves. There’s some antiseptic and various types of bandages, but none of that can help with the current issue. 

She sighs, giving up the fruitless search. She looks up at the loyalist where he’s standing a few feet away, watching her. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks before she can voice her concern. 

“I don’t have anything I need to work on him. This kind of injury needs more than a first aid kit.” She tells him. The look in his eyes tells her he understands but logic has no place in the mind of man on the edge, so his only response is to tell her to make it work. 

Arya shakes her head. “You aren’t listening. I can’t “make it work” with nothing. I can sit here and pretend if you really want, but he will die.” 

The loyalist glares down at her. “If he dies, then so do you.” She gets the feeling he hadn’t really thought the threat through, that it was just something that came out of his mouth in the heat of the moment. Either way, he doesn’t correct himself.

“Then you might as well shoot me now, because I can’t do anything with what is here.”

“What do you need?” 

“A hospital. A proper OR.” She explains. 

“Well that’s not going to happen so what’s plan B?” 

Arya sighs. “Then the only other option is getting the equipment I need here.” 

“Negotiate.” Gendry’s voice sounds from the back of the crowd. The loyalist looks up at him. “It’s been thirty minutes since this started, standard procedure dictates that they should be making contact soon. They’ll call, most likely on the landline, to check on the hostages and get a list of your demands. You can trade hostages for equipment.” 

The man seems to think about it, looking back and forth between the crowd of hostages and Joe. He nods, though she’s certain it’s more for his benefit then theirs. 

“Okay.” He mutters under his breath turning away. He stops a few paces away, staring down at the floor. After a moment he turns back. “Make a list.” He tells her. She nods, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen off one of the desks. 

True to his word, the phone rings ten agonizing minutes later and the loyalist, who Arya presumes is now considered the leader moves to answer it. She can’t hear what he’s saying, he’s too far away, but his agitation is clear in the way he gestures erratically as he speaks into the phone, and the force with which he hangs up is concerning to say the least. 

He doesn’t look happy when he returns. “Alright, here’s how this is gonna go. They’re gonna drop the supplies outside the door,” he points at Conroy. “You’re gonna go get them and bring them back in. Once I’m satisfied they aren’t setting us up, you can take the women and children out.” 

Arya looks to Gendry to see him sharing a weighted look with Conroy. She had only taken a cursory glance over the other hostages when this began, her attention too focused on making sure Gendry was alright, but another look tells her exactly why they look the way they do. 

Jon is a trained negotiator, so she’s heard her fair share of facts and procedures over Sunday dinners and family get-togethers. Of the twenty five hostages, seven are women and there are no children. Of those seven, five are employees of the bank. All of this contradicts the risk reward scenarios that negotiators are trained to take into consideration when speaking with hostile gunmen. For what they asked for, the negotiator should have insisted on a larger number of people being released and the old, women and children first adage means very little women are the minority of a hostage population. 

All of this added up to one thing. Something wasn’t right on the outside. Either they had information that Gendry and the others didn’t, or someone was dropping the ball. She could only hope it was the former. 

Twenty minutes pass before the phone rings again, and the loyalist’s agitation is all the evidence she needs that he too thinks something is wrong. She peers back at the crowd from her place at Joe’s side to find Gendry watching her. His deep blue eyes betraying his concern for her. 

The loyalist returns, ending their silent conversation. “It’s waiting outside the doors.” he speaks to Conroy. “Try anything stupid and start shooting hostages.” 

Conroy gets up and makes his way to the door, unlocking it and stepping out. She can make out the stretcher through the door and the large bags and boxes sitting on top of it. He rolls the stretcher into the building, stopping it just short of Arya’s position. 

Arya turns to the young man and tells him to keep applying pressure as she gets up to inspect the contents. “It’s all here.” she says when she’s done. The loyalist nods and gestures for the women to get up. They do, two helping the pregnant teller to her feet and then together, led by Conroy they walk out the front doors. “I’m going to need a second pair of hands.” she speaks up when they’re gone. 

The loyalist turns to her. “He can help you.” he says, gesturing to the third robber. Arya shakes her head. She doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s terrified of the assumption. 

“He’s too shaky. I need someone with steady nerves and at least some first aid knowledge.” she explains. He stares at her, taking a resigned breath through his nose. He turns to what’s left of his hostages. 

“Anyone with first aid or medical training?” he asks. To the surprise of no one, no one jumps up to help, but Gendry and Delmar all raise their hands, each man looking put out by having to do so. The glare Delmar shoots Ludo tells her he’s a viable candidate as well, or at least he would be if she trusted him enough to actually help. The loyalist looks annoyed to say the least, but he gestures for her to pick one of them and walks away. She doesn’t have to say anything, Gendry just gets up and walks toward her. 

“What first?” he asks as he joins her by Joe’s prone body. 

“We need to get him on the stretcher and into one of the offices. I don’t think anyone here wants to watch me cut this guy open.” the youngest robber who's still applying pressure to the wounds, the flannel now nearly soaked through with blood, pales. 

Gendry merely nods and the three of them maneuver Joe onto the stretcher. They wheel him into the office just off the lobby, pushing the little desk out of the way and locking the stretcher into place at the center of the room. 

“What now?” Gendry asks. 

“Scrub up, put gloves on and then take his place.” she replies, nodding to the third robber whose entire body seems to relax with the implication that he won’t be there for much longer. 

Gendry does as she instructs, glancing at her every once in a while as she assembles pieces of equipment and sets out medical instruments. She ignores his glances, focusing on her work. It’s been awhile since she’s had to set up an OR, since medical school in fact, and she mentally runs through the checklist she knows by heart even to this day. 

She catches movement out of the corner of her eye and looks over her shoulder, watching the third robber rush out, rubbing his blood hands on his jeans nervously. She finishes her work and then scrubs up herself. 

“I hope you don’t get queasy, easily.” she says, gesturing for him to remove the compress after she slips an IV into Joe’s arm. 

“Not usually.” he replies as she cuts off Joe’s shirt. His chest and abdomen are a mess of smeared blood, patterns of his shirt fabric pressed into the dark red substance. 

“Here’s hoping that holds.” she tells him, watching Joe drift off to sleep as the anesthesia kicks in. 

xXx

Gendry has always known, from the minute he realized Arya wasn’t a fraud, that she was an incredible human being. She would have to be to put up with what she does on a daily basis. Watching her in the element of vocation, however, is something entirely different. He’ll always be impressed by her knowledge of other worldly things, but her abilities as a doctor overshine that ten fold in his opinion. 

There’s a clock on the wall behind her, and whenever she doesn’t need him for something, he glances at it. They’re just over an hour when she stops what she’s doing. She’d pulled the bullet out twenty minutes earlier and now she’s working on closing the wound. 

It’s absolutely fascinating. To watch her work. The steadiness of her hands, the determined crease of her brow and the focus in her bright grey eyes. He’s absolutely enraptured by it. 

Arya huffs as she finishes, her entire body relaxing. “That’s all I can do.” she tells him, though he’s not entirely sure she’s actually speaking to him. She looks up at him, pulling her mask down. “That’s as good as it’s going to get without more equipment and a proper operating suite.” 

“I’m no expert, but it looks pretty damn good to me.” he replies, removing his own mask. The look in her eyes is unreadable, but he doesn’t get the chance to question it as the echoing sounds of harsh whispers sound outside the door. He recognizes the voice of the loyalist immediately and he gestures of Arya to stay put as he moves toward the door. They left it cracked open so they could hear anything that happened and Gendry positioned himself beside it, listening closely. 

“What the fuck are you going on about?” the loyalist asks, confusion and aggravation lacing his tone. 

“This isn't how it was supposed to go. We should have been broken out by now.” the younger man replies, as though it clarifies everything. 

“What does that mean?”

There’s a pause and then; “We were only supposed to distract the police, give everyone else time to work and get out. Then they were going to come for us.” 

“Who?” 

“The others, the other teams.” 

There’s another pause, and even without seeing them, Gendry can feel the tension ratcheting up. “Are you telling me that Joe set this whole thing up with the intention of getting trapped in here?” 

“Yes, we are the distraction. We called in an anonymous tip this morning so there would be cops ready here. We wanted this to happen. We keep the cops busy here and the others can do their work across town.” the third explains. Gendry doesn’t know if he’s oblivious to the tension or too panicked to notice the danger. “I thought… did Joe not tell you any of this?” he asks. And there it is, the proverbial lynch pin. 

“No, he said he was in debt to his bookie and this was the only way out. He said he needed someone he trusted to watch his back. He said there was a large cut in it for me too.” 

The younger man doesn’t answer and Gendry holds his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He hears the cocking of the gun moments later and moves away from the door, taking Arya roughly by the arm and moving her to the back corner of the office. He shoves her into it, putting himself between her and the door. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” the third robber questions, no longer whispering. 

“This son of a bitch set me up!” the loyalist, not so loyal anymore, shouts in reply. 

“Wait, you can’t.” is the only reply before a gunshot echoes through the bank accompanied by a cacophony of screams. Gendry braces himself, feeling Arya tense behind him, her body pressed into his back, tense, her hands gripping his shirt. 

The door swings open and he stalks in, raising his gun, pointing it at Joe. “You’ve fucked up my life for the last fucking time.” he mutters. 

“No!” Arya shouts, trying to fight her way out from behind Gendry. He won’t let her pass. “I did not just do fucking surgery in a bank for you just to kill him!” she shouts. The loyalist looks up at them as if just remembering that they're there. 

“I’m sorry.” he says, surprising them. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.” 

“Oh my gods.” Arya breathes and he peeks down at her where she’s looking around him, her eyes focused on a point near the door. 

His attention returns to the loyalist as he raises his gun again, but he never gets to pull the trigger. The incandescent lights above them flicker and spark, an electric buzz that gets louder and louder. He feels Arya tug at the back of his shirt before she shouts;

“Get down!” he drops to the floor, instinctively covering her body with his as the lights explode above them. The loud crash and thump at the other end of the room proceeds the silence that permeates everything. 

“What the fuck just happened?” he questions as he slowly uncurls from around her. 

She looks up at him, eyes wide.

xXx

Arya knows instinctively as the gunshot erupts, that someone is dead. She can feel the energy in the air, the charge of a newly minted ghost. It is a feeling she is unfortunately all too familiar with. It’s the same feeling she had when Lommy died, the same feeling she got fairly regularly working in the hospital. 

So, when she sees the third man step into the room behind the loyalist, his clothes still stained with his friend’s blood, she knows that she’s the only one who can see him. He doesn’t see her, confusion dancing across his face as he stares down at himself. The confusion doesn’t last long though, rage flitting through his eyes. His lip curls back into a sneer, his hands balling into fists. 

The lights begin to flicker, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Oh my gods.” she says, feeling the anger radiating off of him. It reminds her of Terry, that night in her bedroom as Jennifer Hagen tried to claim another victim. But unlike Terry, this man;s ill intent is entirely selfish. 

She tugs at Gendry’s shirt, desperately. “Get down!” she yells. 

“What did you do to me, Eli?” the man screams as she hits the floor, Gendry’s heavy form landing on top of her. The lights explode above them and she screams, forcing the rage that overcomes her out before it can take root. These men have taken enough of her time and energy, she won’t carry even one of them with her, not if she can help it. 

The silence that follows is deafening. She peeks out from space between Gendry’s thigh and bicep, spotting the third man still standing by the door. He’s staring at his hands, shock clear on his face. The loyalist is laying across the room, a few feet on their other side, unconscious on the ground, blood flowing from his forehead. She can’t take her eyes off the third man though. 

As he stands there, the shock slowly gives way to something else, something that will haunt her for years to come. Glee. a grin slowly splits his face and he looks up, laughing bubbling from his lips before he disappears in the blink of an eye. 

Gendry pulls himself off of her. “What the fuck just happened?” 

She can’t seem to find the words to answer, staring up at him in fear and shock. 

xXx

Dr. Sandor Cleagane is probably one of the most miserable people Gendry has ever had the misfortune of meeting. Gendry holds no illusions that he himself is not the most pleasant person to get along with, but Sandor takes that to a whole new level. He’s the best coroner in Southern Westeros though, so he tolerates the man as only a stubborn anti social can. 

It’s late when Clegane slaps the file down on his desk, pulling him from his thoughts. For such a large man, he moves far too quietly, a skill honed in the military where he received the burn scars across his forehead. 

“Pretty straight forward.” Clegane says, dropping into the chair beside his desk. “Courtesy of Payne, your third robber is named Timothy Martin. 25, in excellent health if you ignore the fact that he’s dead.” he continues. “Gunshot wound to the chest, pierced the heart, died instantly.” 

Gendry assumes that’s the end of it when he doesn’t continue, but he doesn’t get up and walk away either. He looks over at the older man expectantly. He rolls his eyes and sighs. 

“You hear anything on the other one? The one Stark treated?” 

Gendry looks confused. “Yeah, he’s not out of the woods yet, but there’s hope.” 

Clegane huffs, sitting back in the chair. A sure sign he’s not leaving anytime soon. “Not surprising. Stark’s good at what she does. Shame she doesn’t do it anymore.” 

“You know her?” he asks without thinking. 

“I taught her,” he explains. “At The King’s Landing Medical Academy. Top three students, hands down.” he continues. “She had it all and more. Talent, knowledge, compassion, a bedside manor most surgeons could stand to learn. But, she started to doubt herself and no doctor with doubts should practice. That’s another thing that makes her such a good doctor. She understood that, wasn’t willing to take the risk to preserve her own ego.” 

“Yeah, I, uh, I heard she quit because of some accident.” 

Clegane scoffs. “That’s bullshit.” he snaps, sitting forward in his chair. “She quit ‘cause she couldn’t handle the idea that isn’t a god. That no matter how good a surgeon she is, she can’t save everyone.” he sighs. “She walks around with a chip on her shoulder like it’s her fault that asshole hit them, like it was her fault that that little friend of hers died before she could free herself from the car. No amount of training can prepare you for shit like that.” 

Clegane shakes his head and rises from his seat. “You need something else for your report let me know.” he says as he turns to walk away. 

Gendry watches the man walk away, his thoughts racing. 


End file.
